


Compulsion

by keirajo



Series: The Love of Romance [19]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Darkness, Drama, Fighting, Love, M/M, Sparkbreak, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, brokenhearted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:01:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23265850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keirajo/pseuds/keirajo
Summary: Megatron has regressed into a more primal version of himself and the Lost Light crew works on trying to get their co-captain back.  (Part three of the "Dark Megatron" arc.)
Relationships: Megatron/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Series: The Love of Romance [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1222904
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Compulsion

**Author's Note:**

> Stay safe everyone!
> 
> The character tags no longer come up with Megatron/Rodimus in the pairing immediately. It's very weird. @_@

**_ Compulsion _ **

_The homemade cellblock on-board the Trylian warship had just erupted into chaos._

However………….

Just about an hour before the mess, the Trylians had returned Megatron to his “ _cell_ ” and Ratchet was extremely worried about what might have happened. He and Thunderclash could hear Megatron scream, from wherever he was on the ship………and that was **_not_** a good thing. It scared the hell out of Thunderclash, because he had no idea Megatron could even scream in such a desperate, pain-filled way. Ratchet knew, instinctively, something had gone very…………….. ** _VERY_** ………………wrong.

“Megatron can stand up to a lot of torture, but they did something that can hurt even him— _this isn’t good, Thunders_ ,” Ratchet said, very softly.

“We’re going to run for it, as soon as we can get Megatron mobile once they bring him back,” the old Autobot hero murmured. “Most shuttle kinds of ships are similar, just steal _anything_ , once we get to their shuttle bay.”

That made the old Autobot medic realize that Thunderclash probably already knew he could break out of this homemade cellblock any time he wanted to—the only problem would be the fight to get to a shuttle. Ratchet knew the way, because he was the only one conscious when they were brought on board the warship, and he felt his old friend was relying on that.

The two Autobots stayed silent as they brought an unconscious Megatron back—it was simply two guards and the captain had not returned, so no one else was to be taken at this moment, it seemed. Ratchet noted the collar on the grey-colored Cybertronian and knew that was not a good sign.

“Step back, Ratch—I’m going to get us out of here _now_ , even if I have to fight with Megatron slung over my shoulder,” Thunderclash said quietly approaching the front bar area of his cell.

Just then Megatron gave a deep and low moan. Then a growl, _dark and feral_.

“ ** _Who dares……..?_** ” The familiar deep voice snarled.

Ratchet knew—that was _not_ the voice of Megatron of Tarn, co-captain of the _Lost Light_ …………. ** _that_** was the voice of Megatron, Decepticon Leader and tyrant of all he conquered. _And that was not a good thing at all._ Suddenly, Ratchet saw Thunderclash’s servo thrust out from his cell bars, waving to get attention. Then he began to use ancient Cybertronian hand-signs. Difficult to do with a single servo, but the old medic knew Thunderclash well enough that he understood the signs perfectly.

**YOU**

**GO**

**WARN**

**THEM**

**I WILL**

**COVER**

**YOU**

There was no denying that Thunderclash was telling him to get his aft back to the _Lost Light_ and tell them that Megatron had been tortured to the point of a psychotic regression, back to when he was ruthless and cruel. And that Thunderclash was staying to make sure Ratchet got away…………and probably to stop Megatron from going too far and destroying everything he’d currently done to repair his brutal past.

And with the Spark-bond, just what was _Rodimus_ getting from Megatron right now?

“ ** _Who has dared to take my fusion cannon and lock me in a cell?!_** ” Megatron’s deep voice roared as suddenly a powerful EM field washed through the whole homemade cellblock area and even made the lights flicker and blow out.

Ratchet heard the miniscule sounds of nanotech swarming the room, to repair the damages as swiftly as possible—and then heard the thunderous crash in the two cells on each side of him. Both mechs were breaking out, but each one had clearly different intent on what they were going to do when they were free. Sounds came from outside the area, meaning that currently the Trylians also could not get into their cellblock area right now.

“ _Ratch, you gotta go. We **can’t** let Megatron out of here_,” Thunderclash said quietly, as the old medic suddenly felt a strong arm go around his waist when the bars pulled away. “I can be a good actor and I’m going to keep him focused with a small bit of fiction—as soon as they open that door, I’m throwing you through and you get out of here now and tell the _Lost Light_ that great damage has been done.”

“ _Yeah. I get it_ ,” Ratchet whispered back with resignation. He would transform the moment Thunderclash threw him through the door—he’d be faster in his ambulance mode than on his pedes. He knew exactly where the shuttle bay was, so he hoped it wasn’t too hard to steal one of their ships. He did _not_ want to leave Thunderclash or Megatron behind, but he had a suspicion he’d never even be able to get close enough to Megatron to examine that collar and deduce what caused the primal regression in him.

_And that was where things were now— **all hell was breaking loose**. Ratchet was speeding down the corridors to get to the shuttle-bay and get away to warn the crew of the Lost Light. And, hopefully, eventually mount a rescue mission._

__

Megatron had one of the Trylian guards by the throat and was squeezing so hard that the nanotech began swarming from the Trylian’s cybernetics all over Megatron’s black servo—trying to attack the mech. But the violent, raging storm that was the former Decepticon Leader’s EM field was obliterating the nanites within seconds.

“ _My lord, you must stop!_ ” Thunderclash yelled, suddenly—he pushed a bunch of the Trylians back and warned them with a glare to stay back.

All of the sudden, Megatron’s flaring red optics turned to him and he sneered. “And you are?” He snapped, still not letting go of the Trylian male in his servo and still not relaxing his choking grip.

“ _Thundershot_ , my lord—and you’ve been hurt. You can’t remember what happened, can you? How we got here?” Thunderclash said, quickly whipping out a name and hoping he’d remember it, since it was close enough to his own.

“You wear _their brand_. **_You are no soldier of mine!_** ” The grey-colored mech growled, still glaring at him coldly.

“My lord—if you look upon your chest, _you_ wear the brand of freedom as well, you claimed it as you did everything else,” the old Autobot hero said, quickly filing his fiction away in his databanks as he came up with it.

Megatron glanced down at his chest and saw the Autobot brand there—as well as he could see a frame rebuild upon what he had once recalled as his own frame. He dropped the Trylian, who skittered away towards his fellows, coughing up their weird purple-colored blood. His other servo suddenly went to his head as pain assaulted his brain and a severe ache throbbed in his neck. That was when his servo brushed his neck and he found the collar.

“ _Nnnngh_. I believe I shall need some explanation, Thundershot. There was another Cybertronian here moments ago, where have they gone?” Megatron asked, letting his EM field tamper down and go neutral.

“I ensured their escape, my lord—so, that they could bring our ship crew out to eventually collect us,” Thunderclash answered, still keeping in his bowed position so he didn’t trigger any more violence out of Megatron.

“ _Rise_. I shall not harm you,” Megatron said, his voice low and commanding. “Explain how we got aboard this vessel and why I have a collar about my neck.”

“It is a long story, Lord Megatron,” Thunderclash said, rising to his pedes. “I will do my best, but keep in mind, this vessel has a semi-life to it in the form of nanotechnology. So, please do not exercise your great power and destroy the vessel around us—we can use these Trylians, for now.”

Thunderclash knew he had to keep at least that Trylian captain alive—so they could get that collar off of Megatron. As of now, he could only hope that Ratchet had managed to escape and get back to the _Lost Light_ ………….

* * * * *

Ultra Magnus had purposely made sure Rodimus was unable to attend this conference with the Galactic Ranger Patrol, because he knew the first thing the younger mech would want to do is rush to Megatron’s side and save him. Though it hadn’t mattered, as the flame-colored mech had barely remained awake recently to even attend a meeting. However, the situation as Ratchet had explained it, sounded far too complicated to make a simple rescue operation succeed. And it sounded as if this psychotic regression of Megatron’s would not even allow him to recognize Rodimus, either as a Cybertronian or definitely **_NOT_** as his chosen sparkmate.

“What would your recommendation be, Commander Magnus?” The Galactic Ranger Patrol administrator of the space station asked. He was a short, furry being, with very large blue eyes. His fur was dark brown and a bit shaggy, with bits and pieces of it weaved or braided—which was either “ _style_ ” or “ _position_ ” for his species. He did wear a version of the red-and-blue standard GRP uniform on his chunky little frame, though.

“This is very difficult. President Harik, what I am about to explain should not be used as tabloid fodder,” the red-white-blue mech said, turning his focus to the holographic communications screen hovering over the table. “A long time ago, when Megatron was simply a worker in the mines—he was experimented upon by the old Senate. They turned him into a villain, because they wished to construct a fictional uprising that they could crush and consolidate the people of Cybertron with, under their rule. They got their villain— _as well as millions of years of war_. The damage done to Megatron was worsened by other scientists like Shockwave—and he has tried **_very hard_** to repent for what he had done when he was damaged.”

“He was a tyrant _and_ …….he has tried hard to make up for that,” Ratchet chimed in. “He had eight-hundred years of a lifetime none of us shared with him in another universe to reform his life. And when he returned, _he found love_ —and that’s a very important thing to note here.”

“ _It most certainly is_. The Spark-bonding process is very difficult to explain to any species but our own, but it is something that binds partners _forever_. It is not something that Cybertronians do on a whim or in the heat of the moment,” First Aid added. “It is often a carefully considered choice and a decision that lasts for our entire lifetimes—that’s why Spark-bondings had become much more rare in our society, with the war, it was too easy to lose your sparkmate and suffer or die as a consequence.”

“There are, admittedly, still a few on our ship who choose only to remember what Megatron **_was_**. So, there are those who will believe it easy for him to turn to his darker side at any given moment,” Ultra Magnus said, nodding at First Aid and then continuing on. “Many of us, though, believe in his change and it’s very clear that Rodimus is suffering tremendously as a result of the Spark-bond. We don’t know what exactly triggered this psychotic regression, but Ratchet said that the Trylians put _a collar_ on him—this collar must somehow be the reason for the regression.”

“This is, indeed, troublesome,” Harik Judur’s image said on the screen as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I remember speaking to Captain Megatron on several occasions and he seemed a very mature being—honest and thoughtful and respectful. I appreciated his honesty in admitting he was uncomfortable around organic creatures. But for a species like yours that can live millions of years, it could be understandable that many of you may have endured pain and brutality for a small portion of your lives which might seem like an eternity to many of us.”

Ultra Magnus thought it best not to mention Megatron’s galactic genocide on organic species, it might have made things worse. There was such a thing as honesty and then there were truthful things that didn’t need to be explained at certain times.

“So, indeed—what **_are_** we to do now?” President Harik asked, his image looking at Ultra Magnus.

“For now—I’d like the Galactic Ranger Patrols to look for the Trylian warship and forward the information to us,” Ultra Magnus answered, very seriously. “Once we’ve found the Trylians— _let them_ protect anything around us from collateral damage, but I wouldn’t try to assist. We don’t want anyone hurt and your Galactic Ranger Patrol can protect innocents from our possible fight.”

“A lot of us have fought Megatron in a very long civil war—if he fights back against us, we can deal with it better than anyone else,” Ratchet said, looking at the Galactic Alliance President’s image on the holoscreen. “ _We also have Rodimus_. Megatron may not remember him right now, but we might be able to use the Spark-bond to eventually get through to him.”

“If you believe this is the right path, we’ll trust your judgement. I will get into contact with Fleet Admiral Salvein of the Galactic Ranger Patrol and he will work on assignments to suit your plan,” the Galactic Alliance President said. “Then we will contact you with more information within the day.”

“I will speak with the other command staff of the _Lost Light_ , from our other departments. We will prepare for the mission at hand,” Ultra Magnus responded, nodding.

Then the meeting was dismissed.

* * * * *

Drift had begun to worry about Rodimus sleeping so much. However, both Ratchet and First Aid said his body was trying to find a sense of recovery inside of him—and rest was the easiest way to try and do it. _But how do you heal a wound in the Spark?_ Even if this was a wound in the Spark! Ratchet had confirmed that Megatron was alive, but Rodimus could no longer feel that. It was an empty, cold void inside of him.

Ratchet was puzzled at how Megatron could somehow cheat the effects of a Spark-bond and……in the end, did it mean the Spark-bond didn’t mean as much to Megatron as it did to Rodimus? First Aid wondered if somehow that strange link that Megatron had to the Dead Universe in his chest had maybe somehow blocked the Spark-bond when the psychotic regression took over. Or maybe, Megatron himself, had used that Dead Universe link to cover the Spark-bond and protect it from being broken by the regression. First Aid kept saying how Megatron and everything he’d done with his life was a great medical enigma and worth studying, but he’d be satisfied if they could just get things back to normal right now, for Rodimus’ sake.

Drift was reading something on a reader tablet, with his chair near the berth in his and Ratchet’s suite. He and Ratchet had both decided that, for now, it would be best to keep Rodimus away from his own room—and not trigger any extra depression over Megatron. Ratchet would be busy enough with the war-planning and right now was not a good time for cuddling, much less interfacing.

Rodimus had tossed and turned a little, but hadn’t woken up in two days for more than a few moments to say “ _hi Drift_ ” and then go back into recharge. He probably hadn’t even realized he wasn’t in the medi-bay anymore, or his room, or even in a suite not his own. The flame-colored frame beneath the blankets turned over, towards Drift, and the light-blue glass over his optics began to brighten, until they were normal for an awake and alert Cybertronian.

“ _Um, hi Drift_ ,” Rodimus said, softly, but did not go straight back into recharge.

“Hello there, sleepyhead,” Drift chuckled, fondly, reaching over to rub his Amica’s helm gently. “How are you feeling?” He asked, putting his reader tablet on the nearby berthside table.

“ _Cold….…. **empty**_ ……is Megatron dead? Is _this_ what a broken Spark-bond feels like?” He asked, a soft whine in his voice. But it wasn’t a whine of unfairness, it was a whine of sadness and despair.

“Well, I think I’m allowed to tell you—Megatron is _not dead_ , but things are not in a very good state. Somehow, Megatron’s done something so that you can’t feel him—I think he’s _protecting you_ from what he’s suffering right now,” Drift answered.

Rodimus grabbed the edge of the pillow and grabbed it to cover his faceplate with. _It wasn’t fair_ , he shouldn’t have grabbed at the chance of happiness that Megatron and his courting presented. Hot Rod of Nyon was cursed and **_cursed forever_** —and he couldn’t even get out of it by dying. _Stupid things, stupid Matrix bringing him back to life after Megatron killed him, when he finally could’ve ended this cycle of stupidity that was his life!_ He sobbed into the pillow, wishing Drift wasn’t there and couldn’t hear him crying right now.

“We’re going to get him back, _I promise_ —even if we have to crawl into the Pit to take him back,” the swordsmech said, quietly, reaching over and rubbing a servo lightly along the flame-colored mech’s blanket-covered upturned side.

“ _Stop it, **just stop it**!_” Rodimus cried, softly. “ _It won’t mean anything! **Then something even stupider will happen………….I’m not allowed to be happy!** Ever since I came into being—everything I loved or tried to love got taken from me by stupid and idiotic twists of fate!_” He grabbed the blankets and pillows and buried himself in them until he was in darkness and couldn’t see Drift anymore. “ _I don’t get to be happy………. **I don’t deserve to be happy** ……….._” he whispered, knowing Drift wouldn’t even hear the words, buried in blankets and pillows.

Drift could only feel Rodimus’ helplessness and despair flooding through his field—the flame-colored mech was trying to hold it in, but he was not succeeding very well whatsoever. He was very worried that his Amica’s suicidal tendencies were going to come back to the surface and maybe even make him finally try to do the worst to himself. The grey-and-white swordsmech stood up and began to slowly pull the blankets away, tugging the pillows from his friend, and dropping it all on the floor so that Rodimus couldn’t grab them all again.

“Come on, up we go— _let’s go get some exercise_. Let’s go down to the training room,” Drift chuckled, lightly tugging on the flame-colored mech’s arm.

“ _Don’t wanna. **It’s all stupid**_ ,” Rodimus pouted, but didn’t pull his arm away from his Amica.

“I think it would be good for you. _Let’s go_ ,” the swordsmech continued, eventually getting Rodimus to get up to his pedes and they walked towards the door.

“I want him back, Drift. **_I love him_**. Why does it have to be so unfair?” The flame-colored mech mumbled, walking side-by-side with the swordsmech down to the training room.

“That I can’t answer. But we _will_ get him back,” Drift answered. “However, it may be up to you to heal whatever damage he’s suffered,” the grey-and-white mech answered, seriously. They stood right inside the training room and the doors slid shut and locked. Then Drift reached over and placed his servos to the sides of Rodimus’ faceplate and leaned forwards to bring their helms together. “ _You are a healer._ You will need to heal your sparkmate—and for that, you will need to be stronger than you have ever been before.”

Rodimus fidgeted and his EM field still leaked with sadness and self-pity. “Drift, I don’t know if I can do that………… ** _I_** …………” he whispered.

“ _You can_. I know how strong you are, because you’re still alive—through everything you’ve ever suffered in your life, **_you are still alive_** ,” the grey-and-white swordsmech responded, his voice soft and soothing. “As much as you don’t want to be alive, either—you’re still, _most definitely_ , alive. That takes a strength that neither Megatron nor Optimus Prime……… _or even a Titan!_..........could ever match.”

Rodimus gave a light little chuckle. Stronger than a Titan, even? He doubted that, but Drift **_did_** believe in him—Drift had never stopped believing in him. Even though their relationship couldn’t have been what Rodimus really wanted, Drift was loyal to Rodimus and believed in him.

“I know this is silly, Drift………… _but can I have a hug_?” Rodimus asked softly. 

Drift grinned and his field filled with warmth and happiness as he moved closer to the flame-colored mech and wrapped his arms about the slenderer mech. Rodimus’ arms slipped around him and the brightly-colored Autobot laid his head on the swordsmech’s shoulder. _He liked the hug_ — ** _he liked it a lot_**. Drift’s emotions were honest and he cared about Rodimus of Nyon—he could feel that with his EM field, as well as his dermal sensor net. _They couldn’t ever be what the flame-colored mech had always wished they could be, but they could still love each other from the depths of their Sparks._

* * * * *

Megatron had already killed three of the Trylians on the ship and didn’t seem to care about Thunderclash’s admonishments that _they needed them left alive_. So far, the old Autobot hero had managed to keep the Captain alive, though. The Trylian Captain, however, was being just as indifferent about trying to remove the collar from Megatron. It was a highly-charged, incredibly volatile balance that was on the ship and everywhere Megatron went, the storm of his EM field blacked out the ship area they were in.

“ _When will they arrive?_ ” Megatron demanded, hitting one of the walls and disrupting the nanotechnology from repairing itself. He turned to Thunderclash.

“My lord, it depends on how long it took our comrade to get away and to find our ship,” the Autobot responded, being very careful to keep his tone reverential.

“ _Find a planet and land_ , Thundershot—I tire of being on this damned ship with these half-organics,” the grey-colored mech snapped, continuing on his pacing through the corridors of the Trylian warship. “My crew will be able to find us better if we are not moving.”

Thunderclash incycled deeply, he turned towards the bridge of the ship and pushed through the soldiers that tried to bar his way.

“Not welcome up here, Cybertronian,” the Captain said in his bored and light tone.

“Trust me, I’d go at the first opportunity,” the old Autobot hero chuckled, walking up to the piloting station and looking at the scans of the sector. “Land on **_this_** planetoid—unless you want Megatron to kill more of your crew because he’s bored,” Thunderclash said, pointing to an area on the sector screen. There were no lifeforms listed on the planetoid and it looked fairly barren.

Nobody moved, but several looked back at their Captain.

“Give me a _better reason_ ,” the Captain chuckled, grinning deviously at Thunderclash.

Clearly the Trylians didn’t care much about one another—they were warriors like the Decepticons once had been. Thunderclash sighed and walked up the short bit of stairs to where the Captain was seated in his chair on the bridge.

“Look, I know you gab about this Galvatron fellow from your universe, but I can assure you that Megatron used to be just as bad, _if not worse_ , than him,” Thunderclash said, quietly. “And he despises organics, even half-organics like you. I don’t know what you have in that collar that regressed him, but I can guarantee you’re going to regret it if you don’t get him off your ship immediately. _He wants off this ship and you want to be rid of him_.”

“Very well. We will drop you off there and be rid of you— _he’ll die soon enough anyways_. That collar will eventually overdose him on Corodine,” the Captain chuckled. “I would not console yourselves into thinking we shall not meet again, I guarantee you that we will encounter one another again—and there will be one less of you by then. Maybe more if he disposes of you before he dies.”

_A drug?_ **_That’s_** what was in the collar? Thunderclash filed that information away for future questions to ask of Ratchet. He was unaware of any organic drug that could be used on a Cybertronian, but Ratchet might know more about such a thing than he would. Thunderclash had studied many things, but Ratchet was a devoted medic………

“Thanks for _all your hospitality_ ,” the old Autobot hero chuckled with deep sarcasm in his voice, walking off the bridge as he felt the ship make a turning movement and knew that the Trylians would keep their word.

They were an interesting species. They were everything that the Decepticons were—persistent and devoted to their ways. But this Captain was very much like Megatron—he had unfathomable patience and would take any amount of time to get to the very ending that he desired. If their Emperor, back in their own native universe, was like **_this_** —then Thunderclash imagined that was why they frustrated that universe’s Galvatron so much.

By the time the blue-red-black-white Autobot had gotten back to where Megatron was—whom he could feel simply because of the EM field storm around him—the former Decepticon was nearly at his patience limit. The field storm was the only thing that was unlike Megatron—the grey-colored mech was an expert at using and controlling his EM field. Thunderclash surmised that it had to be this drug in his systems that made him a little less like the traditional Megatron than anything else.

A drug that was likely to kill him, according to the Trylian Captain.

“They decided it would be best to let us go. I selected a planetoid that has no lifeforms listed on it, so when our crew comes to find us, ours should be the only readings they receive,” Thunderclash said, bowing deeply before Megatron.

“ _Very good, Thundershot_ ,” Megatron said, softly. Suddenly he felt another stab of pain in his head and a black servo shot up to cup the side of his faceplate quickly. The stabbing pains in his head were becoming more frequent. This………. ** _Thundershot_** ………..insisted they had one of the best medics in the universe back on their ship and he would find out what these half-organics had done to him. They just needed to get back to their ship.

A hazy memory of colors flashed through his head. _The brilliant colors of flame……….of red, yellow and orange._ Then a sharper pain stabbed him, but this time it felt like it was in his Spark. That was nonsense. **_His Spark was his own and belonged to nobody else!!!_** But the colors of flame………… _so persistent_!

_So………… **comforting**_ **.**

“You’ll be all right once we get the CMO to take a look at you and find a way to get that collar off safely,” Thunderclash said, quietly. Megatron focused on the old Autobot hero and followed when the mech made a motion to follow. “We should be landing shortly, I’m taking us to their shuttle bay, to exit the ship.”

“I appreciate your diligence, _Thundershot_ ,” Megatron said, his voice low.

Thunderclash heard the strange change in tone. _Something wasn’t right_. Megatron followed him off the Trylian warship and then a heavy backhand slammed into his shoulders, knocking Thunderclash about a mile away. Even as the Trylian warship disappeared back into space.

“ _Do you honestly think I would be fooled by you, **Thunderclash**?_” Megatron growled, slowly stomping towards where the old Autobot hero had landed. “I know not why we were aboard that ship. I know not why I wear your ridiculous brand. I know not why my memories are hazy and scattered, but **_do not_** think that I would forget the list of the Autobots who posed the most threat to my Decepticon Empire!” The older grey-colored mech snarled.

He raised his right arm as if to fire his fusion cannon, glanced at his arm and roared in fury as the storm in his EM field grew into a hurricane of dark emotions. Thunderclash knew instantly he was in immediate danger and he knew he had to get as far away from Megatron as possible. The colorful Autobot hopped back a few more feet and transformed into his aerial mode and flew off quite some distance. According to his readings, Megatron _was_ pursuing him—but he wasn’t flying, nor was he transforming into his tank mode. Had Megatron forgotten about both of those? Did he still think he transformed into a gun? 

_But why was he not trying to fly?_ All Decepticons had the specialized jetpacks and boot thrusters that allowed them to fly without an alt mode—it was a key part of their coding and programs. Those Autobots that had changed sides during the war had surgery and programming alteration to be able to do so as well. It was part of their pursuit and destruction themes. Something was _definitely wrong_ with Megatron—the psychotic regression that the collar caused may not have been because of the drugs………

_Wait._

_**The collar**._

How were the drugs being injected into Megatron from the collar? How much of this Corodine substance was stored in the collar?

Thunderclash carefully crouched behind a rock and watched Megatron come towards him—not even running, but he was definitely coming in his direction. _He was in no hurry?_ _Or could he not hurry? **Had the strange Corodine drug corroded so much of his interior that he was falling apart on the inside?**_

Then a memory came back to him—as he and Megatron were pursuing Froid and Sunder on the _Lost Light_ some time ago. Megatron reaching up to clap the back of his neck as soon as the word “ _mnemosurgeon_ ” had been mentioned.

Megatron had been subjected to mnemosurgery a long, long time ago. Ratchet had alluded to the fact that Megatron had a fear of needles.

“ _Oh, Primus_ …………needles in the collar, injecting into the back of his neck-cabling,” Thunderclash whispered to himself. “ ** _That’s_** what caused the psychotic regression and the drugs are causing and sustaining the damage inside of him.”

The Trylian Captain said that Megatron would die from an overdose of Corodine soon enough. However, that Trylian did not know Megatron and did not know his endurance. The dosage in the collar may only be calibrated for a normal Cybertronian. It probably wasn’t calibrated for someone like Megatron. Megatron may not die from the Corodine, but it was _definitely_ doing damage to him on the inside!

The _Lost Light_ better get here fast, or else one………..maybe two………of the crew would meet their end here on an unnamed planetoid.

* * * * *

It didn’t take long for the _Lost Light_ to find them and if hell hadn’t already broken loose when Megatron regressed on the Trylian warship a couple days ago—hell most definitely broke loose on the planetoid!

“ ** _Ulllllllllltraaaaaaa Maaaaaggggggnussssssssssss!!!_** ” Megatron howled in absolute fury when a strike unit leaped out of the _Lost Light_ , before it landed.

That was one more Autobot on the list of Autobots that Megatron most definitely remembered. And remembered _not particularly fondly_.

“ ** _Go_** —check on Thunderclash, I’ll try and get Megatron restrained!” Ultra Magnus snapped at Rodimus and Drift and Ratchet.

The other three security unit members in the landing party took orders to surround the area and keep a target lock on Megatron. They were under strict orders _not to kill_ Megatron and only shoot to disable if Ultra Magnus appeared to be losing control of the situation. Rodimus, Drift and Ratchet all transformed into their vehicle modes and drove hard towards Thunderclash’s location behind a large outcropping of rocks.

“You seem okay, Thunders,” Ratchet said, kneeling beside his old friend.

“ _I’m fine_. My fuel pump might’ve been rattled when Megatron initially hit me in the back, but I’ve basically been outrunning him,” Thunderclash responded, keeping his optics on the fight.

Megatron had collided with Ultra Magnus and a very physical brawl ensued. Both mechs were bulky and incredibly powerful—and rather well-matched in a fight.

“Ratch—the collar has a drug in it, the Trylian Captain called it _‘Corodine’_ ,” he said, looking over at the old Autobot medic. “And I’d be willing to be my amazing reputation that there are needles puncturing the back of his neck-cabling, injecting the drug into him on a timer of some sort.”

“I’ve **_never_** heard of Corodine,” Ratchet mumbled, puzzled, and peered around the rock to watch Megatron, his optics focused on the collar.

“ _Great_. Now what do we do?” Thunderclash sighed. “It’s doing something to his insides. The collar may have caused the psychotic regression, because of the needles, but the drugs are degrading his internals. He didn’t try to fly against me and he didn’t transform into his tank mode.” Then he switched to a personal communique as soon as he looked back at Ratchet. **[He said that Megatron will die of an overdose “soon enough”.]**

“We’ll need to wait for Magnus to get him down and restrained before I can take a look at him. If the needles are in the back of the neck, then I can cut the collar off at the front and pull the needles out carefully,” Ratchet responded, realizing that to say “ _Megatron will die_ ” aloud would probably send Rodimus into a panic right away.

However, it didn’t look like Ultra Magnus would be able to overpower Megatron anytime soon. And the former Decepticon’s EM field storm was ramping up past hurricane level.

“ _I **gotta** stop him!_” Rodimus suddenly said, hopping to his pedes, transforming and speeding away before anyone could stop him from moving.

And _that_ was the worst thing he could have done.

_Because now Megatron had a hostage and that was a situation he could use._

“Oh little Autobot, so reckless and pretending to be brave, but I can feel it in you— _you are scared_ ,” Megatron said, holding Rodimus up by the throat. 

When Ultra Magnus went to try and go at Megatron, to save Rodimus, the powerful former Decepticon gave him a cold and angry glare. The old Autobot soldier stopped where he was, to prevent Megatron from immediately terminating Rodimus’ life.

“ _Gimme………..my Megatron……… **my Megs** ……….. **give him back**!_” Rodimus gasped as Megatron’s servo tightened around his neck-cabling.

“ _Foolish brat_ ,” Megatron growled.

Then the pain hit him again. This time the stab of pain inside of his brain felt _almost lethal_ , even as something twisted his Spark painfully. Megatron’s free servo went to his head, smacking his own helm hard, as if a fresh bump of pain would make the fierce stabbing stop. _It didn’t_ and the throbbing stabs continued longer than before. The grey-colored mech howled in pain and fury and then ignited his boot thrusters. With Rodimus still in his other hand, the two mechs shot up into the thin atmosphere of the planetoid—hurtling towards another, nearby, planetoid.

The two frames crashed to the rocky and dusty surface, rolling away from each other.

Rodimus coughed and incyled quickly and deeply to get some air through his intake to try to open and clear it.

Megatron’s EM field storm was becoming crushing as it assaulted Rodimus’ normal EM field.

“ ** _Yooooooooooouuuuuuuuuu!!!_** ” Megatron growled, getting to his pedes and stumbling over to the coughing younger Autobot. He kicked the flame-colored mech hard in the chest and Rodimus went flying a mile away, rolling and coughing more. The stabbing pain was constant now, in his head and his Spark—the very presence of this stupid little flame-colored mech was triggering the pain to become worse inside of him.

“ _Gimme my Megs back, you………….. **you stupid Decepticreep**!_” Rodimus cried, real pain flowering inside of him—that kick did some damage, there might be internal hemmoraging.

“Your banter is inane, little brat,” Megatron growled, raising his arm as if to aim his fusion cannon down at the flame-colored mech, then looked at his arm and grumbled. “ _Tch!_ ”

Megatron knelt, swiftly, and pulled Rodimus over, pinning the slender mech on his back.

“ _Unnngh!_ ” Rodimus whimpered, the flowering pain inside of him growing even more intense. He _couldn’t_ fight Megatron— ** _he never could_**. He’d tried, more than once _and the last time_ ………..

“ _This time…………you……….. **nnnngh**_ ,” Megatron gasped, a servo slapping the side of his helm again. “You will die, brat—and none can save you, _but first_ ………..” the grey-colored mech growled, wrapping a servo around Rodimus’ neck-cabling again.

“ ** _Do it right this time, you aft!_** ” Rodimus spat, his anger rising as he realized he wasn’t going to get _his Megatron_ back—so, he may as well incense Megatron to end his life for good this time.

_And there was no Matrix of Leadership to keep him alive this time around._

**Author's Note:**

> I know you're all screaming at me now. *bows deeply*


End file.
